In Enemy Arms
by Judin
Summary: That these men should harbour any sort of sexual interest in him was unthinkable enough in itself, but to have Fury’s surprisingly soft lips pressed to his own was incomprehensible… BryanLeiBruce and KazuyaLee
1. Prologue

**Author:** Judin Attery

**Pairing:** Fury/Lei/Irvin

**Rating:** Nc-17 (I'll direct links to livejournal for the naughty parts since only the mild stuff is allowed on )

**Warnings:** Non-consensual threesome and some violence (rolls eyes It's Tekken)

**Notes:** This is my biggest Tekken project.

* * *

Kazuya Mishima was not the kind of man to fly off the handle at any provocation, but had he been, he would have been wrecking havoc on his office right about now. Instead he sat behind his desk, elbows resting on the mahogany surface and hands folded in front of him, while smouldering red eyes glared a hole in the air. In front of him lay a still-hot-from-the-press edition of Hong Kong's biggest newspaper, as it would look tomorrow morning.

His office lay on the very top of a skyscraper, with a stunning view of Tokyo from a corner to corner, bullet-proof window behind his back. This attack-vulnerable spot was an excellent example of his pride; no matter the opportunity they were given, no one could take down Kazuya Mishima. But he had made a mistake in his calculations; where no tank, robot or army could penetrate his defences, someone small and slippery had.

The pest of a detective was slowly, but surely unravelling G-Corporation's illegal genetics web in Hong Kong, and he was alone about it! The sudden flood of arrested suppliers was bad enough, but in addition, the ongoing investigation made the public doubt G-corp's credibility, and as a consequence the powerful alliances Kazuya had forged were withdrawing from their projects.

He had tried bribes, but no amount of money could sway the knight from his crusade, both subtle and obvious threats had been ignored, and assassination was out of the question now that the spotlight was focused on Kazuya; he'd be the first they'd suspect. Of course this insult would not be left standing, but there were rules to this game, and if Kazuya broke them he would be in more trouble than that persistent bastard was worth. Unfortunately for his mood, he was completely out of good ideas.

A gentle knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts, and before he could accept or refuse the visit, Lee Chaolan slipped inside, wearing a cautious little smile. He closed the door behind him and leaned on it, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head to the side curiously, "Your secretary was right when she said you were ready to murder. What's happened?"

Kazuya raised an annoyed eyebrow at his adoptive brother, fighting the urge to growl at the uninvited intrusion. He noted that Lee was impeccably dressed as usual, in a black vest over a green, silk shirt and tie, and black pants. The silvery hair had been combed too look stylishly windswept. The CEO sneered, but his eyes remained dully, angrily red. "It's none of your business, and nothing to worry about." His voice was calm, but his fury, no matter how tightly reigned in, was still highly perceivable, and should have been sufficient warning for the other man to leave.

Instead, Lee's smile deepened, making his eyes twinkle. He sauntered across the floor and sat down on the corner of Kazuya's desk, placing one leg over the other, "I wasn't going to worry; I know you always get your way in the end, but I'd love to know who made you snap at Nigawa-san. She was in tears."

His secretary. She was an excellent employee, quick and reliable, but unfortunately subjected to all the weaknesses of women, including high sensitivity. "Send her flowers." He wanted to think about something else.

"Ah, so that's it!" Lee had picked up the newspaper and was studying the picture on the front page. "They caught his good side." Kazuya just glared at him, contemplating blowing off some steam by beating his adopted brother up, but after a moment of silence, the Chinese put the paper down and leaned forward, "You know he's just pushing your buttons, right? Getting worked up will only let him know that he's doing a good job of it."

But Kazuya didn't need advice from this slut. After a sound defeat by the hands of his older brother in the fifth King of Iron Fist Tournament and a complete breakdown of his little pet projects, Lee had come to G-Corporation to demand a rematch. He had been desperate, with the fortune he had built up diminishing on all fronts, soon to be entirely gone, but after a second, humiliating defeat right here in this very office, Kazuya had revealed that it was he who had driven Lee to ruin. With nowhere to go and with his insatiable appetite for the luxurious life, the Chinese had begged to be allowed to stay. As predicted. Now he was Kazuya's lap dog, quite literally.

And he certainly hadn't come here at this late hour to talk about work. Almost casually, the CEO rose from his chair and placed one hand on the slender, muscular thigh of the other; it was time for a change of mood. "You should think less about how to anger me and more about how to cheer me up again." The desire that awoke in him at the mere sight of his lover was dangerous, he knew, a weakness that would surely turn on him one day, but even so he rarely attempted to resist it.

Grinning fiendishly, Lee tilted his head until his lips were inches from Kazuya's, and his voice was velvety soft and filled with heat when he whispered, "I think I have a few ideas. Shall we discuss them…on your bed?" They kissed slowly and deeply. The Mishima felt better already, especially because he had just realised what to do with the thorn in his side. Every man had a weakness, after all.


	2. Chapter 1

"_Listen carefully, detective; I will say this only once. I have a little tip for you."_

Whoever the caller had been, he was not here; this place was deserted. The buildings on this block were nothing but empty shells and all the same; square structures without an ounce of personality, home to rats and cockroaches. It was probably one of the Government's redecorating projects, waiting for funding.

Lei sighed and scratched the back of his head, wondering how he was supposed to find the building in question. The anonymous caller had told him to enter one of the houses, wherein he would find photographic evidence of G-Corporation smuggling animals out of China, helped by a mayor company under the leadership of one of Hong Kong's most prominent business men. Although it seemed too good to be true, indeed, the whole package seemed put together especially for him, Lei had gone to check it out. What irked him was the unusual manner of the new informant; he had dealt with a lot of them in his time, but none had been quite so calm and polite, none so unresponsive when he asked questions in return, none so well prepared or unafraid.

"_You'll know the building when you see it."_

He walked in between the looming structures, scanning windows and corners for any sign of life, but all he found was a bunch of old garbage and a stray cat. When no answer presented itself, he went back to the open parking lot where he had left his car. It was there that he noticed an anomaly. All the houses had broken windows and door that were torn from the hinges, except for one. The windows looked like they'd been replaced recently, and the door was in good shape and properly closed. Could that be it? Behind him the clouded sky was slowly darkening.

It was dark inside, a long dusty hallway with locked doors and a set of stairs leading up to the second floor. The detective pulled his gun and walked slowly down the hallway. At the very end there was a small window, leading right out to another wall. The glass was thick. After confirming that all the rooms down here were empty or locked, he went upstairs. He was excited to find that the dust on the stairs had been disturbed by feet, going both up and down; someone had been here, but through his triumph there crept a nagging worry; this was too obvious.

Upstairs was much like downstairs with a long hallway, closed doors and cobwebs in the corners, but one of the doors stood slightly ajar. This was definitely becoming too easy, but Lei was only suspicious, not afraid; what did he, legendary martial artist, among the best in the world, have to be afraid of?

The door creaked when he pushed it open, but otherwise the whole building seemed dead silent. The detective didn't leave his guard down, though; he held the gun with both hands as he inched his way inside, ready to shoot at the first sign of life. All of a sudden the door slammed shut with a bang. The Chinese whirled around, but before he got a chance to defend himself, he was kicked to the floor, a black boot connecting with his shoulder. It made the gun fall from his hands and skitter across the floorboards.

"Welcome, detective."

Lei clutched his bruised and throbbing shoulder and glared up at his attacker, but his eyes widened when he recognised him. "Fury?" Since when was he in China? There had been no mentions in the media, no call from the office, no nothing, and Bryan Fury _never_ travelled unnoticed!

The other man was very tall with broad shoulders and strong legs. He wore baggy, black pants, held up by a belt consisting of bullets, and a baby blue shirt, hanging open to expose the chilling scars that marred his pale torso. The face was hard, with cruel, blue eyes, a large nose and thin lips. Bryan Fury was a rogue among his own kind, known for the careless, brutal way he killed, and for his inhuman strength and invulnerability, courtesy of the mad scientist that had had a field day with the American's body after his death in a shoot out. "Stand up. Give me something to work with."

The Chinese did as he said, shifting his shoulder gingerly to test the damage. "I knew this was a trap, but I didn't expect Mishima to be so stuck in his ways. Like I can't handle you!" He rushed forward, fist drawn back and ready to strike.

The American stepped forward, reached out, and all of the sudden Lei was up against the wall with a rough hand clamped around his neck. What on earth? He twisted to break free, pushing and scratching at the single arm that pinned him, but it was like fighting a stone statue, and now he couldn't breathe. "…Fury-!" Even more desperately he struggled, as his vision began to blur. Then, just as he was certain he'd pass out, he was released, legs giving way immediately so that he crumpled to the floor again.

Heaving for breath and coughing through a sore throat, Lei was beginning to wonder if there was something here that he had yet to guess. What was this game they were playing? He looked sideways and saw Fury's leather boots.

"You've never been able to handle me, detective."

He knew for a fact that the American had not been this strong in the fourth or fifth Iron Fist tournaments, the latter in which he had been the one to eliminate Lei, but regardless of when or how he had come in possession of the new power, fighting him here in no-man's-land was not a good idea. "That depends on the meaning of the word." Abruptly, Lei extended his hand and grasped the handle of the short knife sticking out of a special pocket on Fury's right boot. Without pausing he drove it into the other man's thigh, forcing it as deeply into the soft flesh as he could. Fury roared in pain and stumbled away, leaving Lei free to get up and run for the door.

The Chinese ran down the hall and then the stairs, feeling like he truly had the devil on his heels. How long would it take before Fury took up the chase? The detective had never tried to stab him before, but didn't have much faith in the knife, knowing what little damage weapons caused Fury's scientifically enhanced body. However, there never came any signs of pursuit, not even as he ran towards the exit, and in the last seconds before freedom he felt only triumph at once again having outwitted Kazuya Mishima.

It seemed so cruel, to have victory snatched from his grasp just as his fingers grazed it. Lei looked without believing at a face he had not seen up close for years. Bruce Irvin stood in the doorway, blocking the way out and casting the hallway in darkness.

He was a tall, muscular, black man with a ridge of black hair running over the middle of his scalp and ending in a short ponytail. The African American was a kick boxer like Fury, which meant that his style was slower and more predictable than Lei's, but also that he was stronger. Dressed in a black suit with a blue tie, he looked strangely sophisticated for the brawler Lei knew him as, but he supposed it was required in his line of work. For years he had been Kazuya Mishima's bodyguard, while being presumed dead in a dramatic plane crash that had also caused the death of Lei's partner. Lei had met him in the second King of Iron fist tournament, where the detective had won their fight by a thread, and again in the fifth, but he had been eliminated from _that_ competition before they had been able to have a rematch. Afterwards, Irvin had returned to Kazuya's service.

Irvin took a step forward, giving Lei no choice but to back up. "Leaving so soon?" He reached out and put a heavy hand on the Chinese's shoulder. "Why don't you stay for a while?" The detective threw a punch at Irvin's head, but it was blocked by an arm as solid as a wall, and the second punch was also stopped, a hand closing vice-like around his wrist. The African American laughed as he dragged both Lei's hands above his head, leaving his stomach vulnerable for attack. "Been slacking off lately, detective? You're not as sharp as you used to be."

Lei growled, "I'm sharp enough to figure out who sent you, lackey." His own condition gave him an idea and he brought his knee up sharply, hitting Irvin in the stomach and making him double over and curse.

Lei sprinted back up the stairs, but at the top he hesitated, unsure of where to go next. Irvin was regarding him quite calmly from below, despite being bent over by the waist, with eyes squinted in pain. A small smile curled on his lips; Lei's insecurity was amusing him! The Chinese glared; he'd show them that he was not easy prey. There was a window, identical to the one downstairs, on the wall at the end of the corridor. If he could get it open then he could climb or jump down. It was a risky plan, but also his only current alternative.

Lei smirked at Irvin and ran towards his destination, but he never got close enough to attempt the escape; without warning he was grabbed from behind and flung violently away from the window, tripping over his own feet and landing on the floor. Fury had clearly recovered. Before Lei could even hope to counterattack, he found himself on the end of two loaded guns.

Irvin cocked his head to the side. He was grinning. "Did you really think you could cross Kazuya Mishima and win? That's not self-esteem, detective, it's delusions of grandeur."

* * *

Oh, Lei is in trouble now! XD


	3. Chapter 2

Lei got a proper look at the room as he was herded back inside. It had bare walls, an out-of-place double bed with white sheets and no covers, and a small, single window. Irvin locked the door while Fury held him at gunpoint. Then they advanced on him. Lei backed up into a corner, raking his mind for an escape. What where they planning? Desperate for a foothold, he threw a wild card. "My colleagues know where I am. If I go missing..."

Fury laughed, a maniacal noise that sent shivers down the detective's back. "Liar. You're off duty."

They were coming uncomfortably close, and when Irvin reached for him, Lei reacted automatically, grabbing the arm that stretched towards him and slamming the African American into the wall, following it up with a punch to the gut, but that was where his luck ran out; he was grabbed from behind and thrown to the floor, once again looking up to look into the barrel of his own gun, resting a little too comfortably in Fury's hand. Irvin straightened up with a grimace, "You'd think the 9 millimetre would keep him in check, but he's a feisty little bitch."

Fury didn't take his eyes off Lei, showing all his teeth in a wide grin, "This is going to be more fun than I thought."

Lei had a strong feeling that they weren't planning to shoot him, well aware of Kazuya's policy on the matter. It was a crazy risk, but he was willing to take it to escape whatever the sociopath and the mercenary had in store for him; throwing himself around on his stomach, he hoisted himself up and completed a fast, low roundhouse that sent Fury sprawling. Then he got up and ran to the door, throwing himself against it to break the lock. It didn't budge. A powerful blow to his temple made his knees collapse, and through a swoon he heard Irvin say, "Baby's got his handcuffs with him. Maybe we should put them to good use?"

The Chinese kicked and twisted, but he couldn't prevent his arms from being locked together behind his back. He was raised to his feet and the two men held him between them. Irvin pulled the rubber band from the detective's hair, so that silky black strands spilled freely over his shoulders, and then he pressed his cheek to Lei's temple, lips touching his left ear as he whispered thickly, "Your hair smells like flowers, bitch."

Taken more than a little aback by this completely unexpected and rather insulting comment, the detective did his best to jab an elbow into the African American's rib. "I-I don't know what you're planning, but I won't let-"

Fury cut him off. That these men should harbour any sort of sexual interest in him was unthinkable enough in itself, but to have Fury's surprisingly soft lips pressed to his own was incomprehensible, and so Lei froze completely, every muscle in his body tensing to the point of pain, until he could neither yield nor struggle. A questing tongue sought to enter his mouth, slipping past his lips to explore, and an intense, melting heat pooled between his legs when it connected with his own.

The mass murderer moved his lips lazily, not at all deterred by the lack of response. When they finally parted, Lei's cheeks were bright red and his eyes were wide in shock. Then he blinked, as if waking from a dream, and averted his gaze from Fury's piercing one, tongue darting out to lick his pinked mouth tentatively. He was breathing faster. _'What's going on?'_

Fury grinned at Irvin and said, "You should try this; it's sweet." And just like that, Irvin tipped the detective's head back and sampled some of the sweetness for himself, biting down on the tender flesh and making Lei's eyes fall shut again. The fire inside him flared, stoked by the hand that stroked his neck. While Irvin had Lei occupied, Fury unbuttoned his shirt and began to rub his nipples. Lei had never considered them a place of sexual pleasure before and was surprised by the way the overly intimate touch enhanced and made vulnerable the feelings he was struggling not to feel.

When Irvin let him go he tried to speak, "Stop tha-" but then his lips were captured again.

The Americans traded Lei back and forth like this for a while, growing more and more demanding until the Chinese was panting, his knees threatening to buckle, his lips swollen and red. When he twisted they held him still and when he bit they bit back. His pupils were dilated with desire to make his eyes almost completely black, but all the time his mind was racing to cope with the shock. Why was this happening? What on earth was Mishima planning? Why was he responding like this?

They pulled his clothes off with clever fingers, so that when he writhed and snarled to keep one pair of hands from divesting him of his shirt, another would sneak down to his waist and remove his belt. Fury pulled the knife from his boot and used it to get the shirt past the handcuffs. There were traces of blood on the metal still, but the wound didn't seem to be bothering the pale American. Lei tested their patience, squirming, and arching away from them, until Fury lost it, tore the last of his clothes from his body and threw him down on the bed. Irvin just shook laughed.

"Why are you doing this?" Lei shouted, moving restlessly around on the bed as the two Americans discarded their shirts.

Bruce walked around the bed and lay down, pulling him down from his crouched position. "I thought you had this all figured out." And that was all the answer he was given.

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This is not the end of the chapter! In fact it's barely begun! If you want to read the rest (warning for major sexual and some violent content) go to my journal (link on my profile page) and check out the "tekken" tag.


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's notes: **This is not the actual beginning of Chapter 03, but the middle. If you want to read the beginning (warning for major sexual content), go to my livejournal (link on my profile page) and check out the "tekken" tag.

* * *

Lei lay exhausted and ashamed on the bed, somehow unable to believe that this had happened, that this room was connected to the world outside. Blood and semen stained the sheets under his hips. _'Don't look at me. Let me fade away and never know this shame again. Never know anything again…'_

The two Americans were getting dressed and consulting in low voices on how to leave their captive. Apparently, Bryan wasn't satisfied with the damage they had caused him. "What kind of a threat is this? 'Stop the investigation or we'll fuck you gently?'" He stopped buckling his belt to gesture to the bed.

Bruce shook his head while pulling up his pants, "Dude, you're just looking for an excuse to rough him up again. It's not like he's gonna be able to do much standing and walking, much less working for the next week."

Bryan's eyes narrowed and his lips twisted in a sneer, "Fuck, you're weak. Can't stand to see that pretty face in pain, can you?"

The African American groaned and rolled his eyes skyward, "Fine, whatever man, but try to leave him conscious at least." He turned away and began to button up his shirt.

The cyborg smirked and finished zipping up his boots, pulling from one of them the knife that Lei had stabbed him with and coming up alongside the bed. "Turn over, pretty girl. Gonna make sure you don't forget." He made Lei roll onto his stomach. The Chinese was limp like a ragdoll. "Stay still. Don't want my hand to slip." He ran careful fingertips over the clammy skin, before making his decision. Lei pulled in a sharp breath and tensed at the first touch of the cold metal against his back.

The knife was sharp as a razor and not very big. It sliced into its target easily, but not deeply. A thin stream of blood ran over the smooth skin and the American's eyes lit up. He bent down and ran his tongue over the cut. Lei shuddered.

The Chinese clutched the pillow with white knuckles when the second cut came, connected to the first. This one was shorter and curved. Another cut and Lei's face was turning white. He tried to stay silent, but soon he began to emit small cries of pain to accompany the careful and precise strokes of the knife. When Bryan was done, the Chinese had his tearstained face pressed into the pillow, and there were growing patches of red all over the bed sheets. Bryan bent over him and pulled strands of hair away from his eyes, "That's a good girl."

Bruce shrugged on his jacket and came over to help Lei sit up, and while Bryan got his shirt on, the African American delivered his lecture, "You're a smart guy, Wulong, you know what this was about, and I trust there won't need to be a next time."

Lei didn't look up. They left him there, to his thoughts and to the silence.

* * *

The apartment was dark, but he didn't turn the lights on. Cast a quick glance at the phone to find the message button blinking red. Proceeded to the bedroom, limping, and holding on to his trousers to prevent them from falling down, ripped as they were. Slowly, he took his soiled and ruined clothes off, careful not to come in contact with skin. His ribs, shoulder and legs were badly bruised, his jaw ached, and blood had soaked the back of his shirt and pants. Refusing to look in the mirror, he limped into the bathroom and turned on the cold water tap in the shower. If only the water could carry away the shame like it did the blood. For an hour he scrubbed imaginary stains off his body, moving carefully for the sake of his back, but when he finally turned the water off he felt no cleaner.

The eyes staring back at him from the mirror were dull and lifeless. Lei leaned on the sink and let his head fall forward. _'Am I broken now?' _He swallowed and inhaled deeply before turning around. He loosened the white bathrobe and let it fall down to his elbows; he needed to examine his back. Two identical, overlapping letters were written in red scars low between his shoulder blades. His jaw fell slack as he realised that he'd been branded with the initials of the two Americans. Weak and light-headed he sank to the floor and leaned his forehead against the cold tiles. The darkness behind his eyelids was merciful. If only it could claim his memories.

* * *

Kazuya held up the tall, narrow glass and toasted with his lover before taking a sip of the red wine, in which all the lamps in the room was reflected. Darkness had fallen and far below them Tokyo was putting on an impressive light show.

Lee grinned devilishly and made himself comfortable on the big bed, taking a drag of his cigarette and releasing the smoke slowly from between swollen lips, "I knew you'd have your way in the end."

Kazuya inclined his head slightly, "Always."


End file.
